Solace
by kimbari
Summary: Walter's ending to his fairy-tale broke Astrid's heart. There wasn't much she wouldn't do to ease the pain of Peter's desertion.  Set directly after episode 220 "Brown Betty."


The house was empty.

Walter stood motionless just inside the threshold, listening for a noise, sniffing for a scent, waiting for anything that would tell him the house's other occupant had returned. Astrid closed the door behind them. She stood still and watched him, and when no sign appeared and the only sound to be heard was the sigh of the furnace kicking over to warm the cold air they'd let in, she saw an avalanche of sorrow descend upon him, bowing his head and stooping his shoulders.

"Walter... do you want me to make you something to eat?" Astrid asked, her eyes soft with sympathy.

He ignored her, shrugged out of his coat and scarf and dropped them where he stood. He shambled off into the interior of the house, leaving her standing in the entryway. Astrid sighed, picked up his coat, hung it with her own and went into the kitchen.

She busied herself putting together a meal. She could hear Walter rummaging around somewhere, and when the pungent odor of marijuana assailed her nose, she knew he'd found what he'd been searching for.

He continued to ignore her when she brought him his dinner: two ham sandwiches and a cup of soup, and set it on the table. She sat next to him on the couch. He pretended she wasn't there.

After several long minutes in which he finished one joint and fired up another, Astrid put her hand out, palm up, thumb and forefinger opposed. Walter glanced at her and continued to smoke. Astrid stretched her hand out again, stiff-armed, trying to get his attention. Walter looked suspiciously at her hand and took another puff.

"Walter!" she said, so suddenly that he started. "You're screwing up the rotation. GIVE!"

He resentfully handed her the joint. "I didn't know you partook."

Astrid pulled on the cigarette like an expert. "There's a lot you don't know about me," she said nasally. After a few seconds she let the smoke out in a long, unhurried breath.

Walter took the joint back. "Why do you always scold me when I smoke?"

"You do it at work," Astrid said. "If I get high on the job I won't have a job."

"I wouldn't tell a soul," Walter said, brightening a bit at the prospect of having a smoking partner.

"Personal ethics, Walter," she said, retrieving the joint and taking another hit. She exhaled and closed her eyes. "Whoa..."

"Good shit, huh?" Walter said.

"Badass," Astrid agreed.

She opened her eyes, thought better of it and closed them again. She kicked off her shoes and settled back into the sofa cushions.

He watched her, fascinated as the joint burned down to his fingers. He absently pinched the coal to death, eyeing the young woman from her sock-clad feet to her springy hair. Astrid was wreathed in smoke, eyes closed and her expression was that of someone two inches from bliss. Walter was captivated.

"You are the most exquisitely beautiful creature I have ever seen," he murmured.

Astrid opened one eye and looked at him, snorted, then closed it again. "That's the weed talking," she drawled, then elevated his heart rate by bowing her body upward in a lazy stretch.

It took about a minute for him to recover from that; when he did, he said, "Then the weed has very good eyesight," as if that made all of the sense in the world.

Astrid didn't react to the content of this pronouncement so much as the way it was made. She snickered, then started to giggle. No bad mood could possibly survive Astrid's giggle and Walter's funk promptly deserted him. He chortled along with her. Their laughter finally ran down long past its stale date. In the silence, Walter touched her hand.

"Thank you for staying with me, dear," he said, more humbly than he might have if he weren't so stoned.

Fairly stoned herself, Astrid clasped his hand. "You're welcome, Walter. Thank you for thanking me."

"I realize that being my assistant can sometimes be a thankless job."

"Sometimes?" Astrid said.

Walter continued, oblivious to the sarcasm. "You are beautiful. Weed or no weed."

Astrid fought another reefer-generated impulse to laugh. You don't laugh in a man's face when he tells you you're beautiful, not even when the man was Walter. _Especially_ if it was Walter.

"You're beautiful, too, Walter," she said softly.

After a long moment in which nothing was said but something communicated, she leaned closer and kissed his mouth. It was a small kiss and when she pulled back he stared into her eyes, puzzled. Before he could form the question Astrid kissed him again, longer, slower, deeper. This time when she pulled back he pulled her forward and into his lap and none of the reasons why they shouldn't crossed either of their minds.

She wanted to kiss him again because his lips felt so good against hers. He wanted to kiss her again because he realized that he still remembered how. Each were enchanted by the softness of lips, the flavor of tongues, the way she breathed in when he breathed out, the way he cradled her in his arms. Closeness was brought, both of them unaware until now of how much they'd missed it, wanted it.

Walter couldn't stop himself from kissing, not only her mouth which was all about young, full lips and delicious saliva, but her forehead, her cheeks, her chin, her ear, wherever he could reach. Astrid had come into his arms as if that were her place, as if she'd always been just outside, waiting for him to invite her in. And once in he made full use of privileges she granted him, touching, tasting, caressing every part of her he could reach.

On his third pass beneath her sweater, Astrid took his hand and placed it upon her breast. He released her mouth with a gasp of surprise. She didn't know why her move would surprise him, but he got over it quickly, and instead of clasping or squeezing, he shifted his hand until her breast fit perfectly into the cup of his palm.

Walter released her breast to unbutton her sweater but she stopped his hand and pulled up on the hems of both the sweater and the nearly invisible red tank she wore beneath it. He caught on quickly and unwrapped her like a gift, pulling both garments with one hand up and over her head. A lace bra frosted her deep ivory skin like pink decoration on a vanilla cake. Their hands clashed as they both went for the button at her waistband. It brought them up short.

"May I?" he whispered, and Astrid realized that responsibility for what would happen next would rest squarely on her shoulders.

This was not something she didn't know.

She rolled out of his lap and onto her feet, leaving Walter with empty arms and a look of chagrin that made her want to giggle again. Instead, she unbuttoned and unzipped and pushed her pants down past her hips. She stepped out of them as Walter reached for her, pulling her to himself again. He slid his hands between her and her panties, pushing them down her thighs to her knees. Astrid stepped out of her underwear and he released her, stared at her body clothed only in a cake decoration. He licked his lips as he once again laid his hands on her waist. He studied her for a long moment filled only with the sound of their rapid breathing.

"Why is she bald?" he asked, never taking his eyes from her.

"It's the style," she told him, aroused by the way he studied her. "Does it bother you?"

He looked up and what was in his eyes zinged through her spine... and one other place. He grazed her mons with his thumb and Astrid felt her backbone melt a little more.

"This is the prettiest pussy I've ever seen," he mused.

Astrid smiled at that but before she could respond he changed the way he held her, pulling her off-balance. She put her foot up on the couch in an attempt to save herself from falling, and in what was one of the smoothest moves she'd ever seen, Walter slid beneath her upraised leg and pressed his mouth to her pretty pussy.

She squeaked and grabbed the collars of shirt and sweater to steady herself. The sensation as he tasted her threatened to scramble her brain. He reached beneath and behind her to pull her even closer, kissing her there as he had kissed her mouth (_exactly_ as he'd kissed her mouth), drawing from her gasps and moans and one distinctly enunciated _"Oh, God..."_ She was getting wobbly in the knee that was holding her up. He noticed and slid to the floor, bringing her to both knees on the couch. She abandoned his collars for the couch cushions.

Walter did things to her while he was down there that she couldn't even put a name to, bringing her to an orgasm that made her cry out his name and clutch the cushions so hard the imprint of her nails remained in the leather for days afterward.

Astrid rolled over into her original place on the couch, not really caring that she was all but naked in a house that wasn't her own, her clothes in a pile at her feet. Walter picked himself up and sat down next to her. He was grinning, _beyond_ smug.

"Not bad for an old man," he declared, his face glistening from his pussy-eating endeavor.

Astrid smiled as she wiped his face with her fingers. "You are _not_ an old man," she told him.

"I'm not a young man, either."

She let that go. "What can I do for you?"

Her legs still felt like they were made of jelly, but she thought she could accommodate him if it didn't involve standing. "Do you want head?"

Walter looked into her eyes. "I want to fuck you."

"We can do that." Astrid nodded. "How do you want me?"

For a moment he looked wistful. "All the time," he said, too softly to be heard.

"Walter?" Her expression was familiar; she could have been in the lab listening to him expound on some obscure chemical compound.

"Right here," he told her. "Sit astride me."

She nodded again and went about unzipping him. She raised her eyebrows when she saw what he had. He opened his mouth to say something and she pressed her finger against his lips.

"Don't," she ordered, and he subsided.

She swung her leg across him, took him in hand and guided his cock to her slippery, still sensitive lips, stroking her cleft back and forth, her eyes on his.

"Yes," he sighed, but as she moved to fit him inside, he stopped her.

"What's wrong?" she said.

"You're so tiny," he whispered. "I'm afraid I might hurt you..."

Astrid smiled. "It's okay," she assured him. "I've had sex before."

He looked confused. "Really? I don't recall ... and I certainly think that I would re-"

"It wasn't with you, Walter," Astrid said patiently. "It was someone else."

He frowned. "And they let you get away?"

"Lucky for you," she said. "Now, are you gonna give me this or what?"

"I'm all yours, darling," he breathed. He placed his hands on her waist as she guided him into her. _"Go slow..."_ and she said _"Okay,"_ spreading her thighs as she guided and pushed down, as he pushed up, as the distance between them slowly became less and less, until she moaned and he felt the slick velvet inside of her contract in a minor orgasm.

"Slow, my love..." he whispered and she answered,

_"Yes!"_

as she engulfed him, so tiny, so tight and she made the most delicious noises of pleasure. And he murmured her name, and he would be damned if he ever forgot it again.

"Astrid..."

And she moaned, "Too much..."

But she didn't stop, only tilted her head to the side and worked her hips up and down and around and around and the sex swirled like something in a dream, the kind of dream that messed up the sheets but this was no dream. This woman was on top of him and he was deep inside her. For just this moment she was his and it was real.

She whispered into his ear, "So good, sooo good..."

And she felt that she couldn't last another moment, but she never wanted this to end, with all of him inside her now. They were close, so close, she laid her cheek against his, and she moved with him inside her and she moved the way no one had had to teach her, like she'd never before moved for anyone else. She straightened and looked down at him and thought, _I love him... it wouldn't feel like this if I didn't love him..._ And he heard him echo her words _(so good)_ without speaking, around and around, and their fingers entwined, their hands clasped.

Her face was flushed, sweaty, he could see the pulse beat in her neck. Her nipples strained against the fabric of her bra. He reached behind her and freed her from that last bit of clothing, as she removed his layers of clothing until they were skin to skin, and they moved like waves, like sweet slickness, like perfect perfection, and they shared another kiss like the one that had started it all.

"May I come inside you?" he asked in a whisper and felt her body thrum in reaction to his words.

"Yes," she said, then said it again and again, unable to stop saying it until she couldn't form words anymore and she came and deep inside her (where he was) her vaginal muscles milked his cock and he held back until he couldn't anymore and then he was giving his living self to her, giving it all to her, wanting only to be with her if she would let him. Now, let her share her life with his own shattered and more than half lived. It wouldn't be fair, it wasn't fair, but there he was, she was, they were.

Astrid cradled his graying head against her breasts, breathing in the scent of him, memorizing how she was feeling _now,_ because this could stand up to the worst that might happen in the future. She smiled into his hair but there were tears in her eyes because she'd never had it so good and was pretty sure if it got any better than this, she wouldn't survive it.

She leaned over to look into his face. "Walter? Are you okay?"

Walter looked up at her. His eyes were wet, too. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"I'll take that as a yes," she said. But he looked so... not sad, but definitely in that neighborhood. "You know that I love you, right?" she added softly.

Of course she did. Who else would put up with everything he put up to be put up with but someone who loved him? Why else would she? He didn't think the money was _that_ good, and he knew she wasn't a masochist.

"I don't deserve it. And you deserve better."

"Yes, you do..." she stopped. "Whatever better is," she continued, "if it's not you, I don't want it."

"That's the weed talking," Walter said quietly, looking away.

Astrid considered that, then climbed off him.

"What a mess," she remarked, looking at his lap.

She pulled his sweater from the mash of clothes at his back, put it on and went into the bathroom, returning with a damp towel. When she moved to clean him up, he stopped her.

"I am not a child, Astrid..."

"Shut up and let me do this," Astrid said and set about the task.

"My, aren't we bossy," he grumbled.

"I wish someone would clean up after me," she said, finishing up. She looked at his face. "Your lip is swollen."

"Yes, well, I was taken advantage of by my mild-mannered assistant," he said, touching the sore spot.

"Sorry," she said, lightly. "You have no idea how hot you are."

"Nor have you," Walter said.

She moved away and he grabbed her arm, suddenly afraid of letting her out of his sight.

"I have to clean up, Walter," she said.

He released her and she left the room. He watched her go, thinking that his sweater was truly blessed to have her in it. After he climbed back into his clothes, he found the sandwiches Astrid had made for him and remembered he was hungry. Munchies hungry. He gobbled them down and was swallowing the last of the now-cold soup when she returned, fully clothed and carrying his sweater.

"I really should get going," she said, handing him the sweater.

"No... no, it's too soon!" he protested.

"It's getting late," she said.

She looked and sounded peeved and Walter said, "Have I done something to make you angry?"

Astrid sighed and closed her eyes. "No, Walter, not really... I'm just tired. I want to go home."

"You can rest here," he said anxiously. "I'd really like it if you spent the night. This is a big house and right now it's far too empty..." he trailed off. "Being with you made me forget everything but goodness. For a tiny while I was whole... I want to feel that way again."

She opened her eyes but they filled with tears, showing her a blurry version of a vulnerable Walter.

"How am I supposed to resist you?" she asked him. She swiped at her eyes, tried and failed to suppress a smile.

"You could if you really wanted to, dearest." Walter took her hand in both of his. "Only a small part of me would die."

Astrid rolled her eyes. "Now you're being dramatic," she scolded.

"But you will, won't you?" Walter said, sensing the tide turning. "You are going to stay with me tonight."

She made a frustrated noise and pulled him into her embrace. "I give up! I'll stay."

He hugged her so hard she couldn't breathe. She could feel his whole body smile.

"You can sleep with me..." he said.

"Ah-ha!" Astrid cried, pulling away. "I saw that coming, you horndog! You just want to get laid again!"

Walter blinked bashfully. "Probably not until morning..." He glanced around, then lowered his voice. "I get an _amazing_ erection every morning without fail, a real blue-steeler."

Astrid raised her eyebrows. "Blue-steeler, huh?" she said skeptically.

"Oh, yes," he said proudly. "Sometimes I get a morning boner that won't subside for hours-"

"Okay, Walter, I get the idea!" Her tone was ironic but there was a tiny glint in her eye, almost a dare, as she looked up at him. "You'd better come across after all that bragging or I'm going to be very put out with you-" She froze, then clapped both hands to her face. "Oh, my God, I did not just say that!" she mourned.

"It's all right, darling," Walter assured her. "The best puns are unintentional."

end


End file.
